


Good Morning

by Raaj



Category: Bravely Default: Flying Fairy
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, silliness courtesy of Ringabel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 05:04:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1845334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raaj/pseuds/Raaj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Ringabel wakes up, and has a lot of trouble processing why he has so much company in his bed. It’s not a bad situation to be in, though...  (Previously published under a much sillier title on tumblr; alludes to spoilers for ch. 6.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Morning

Ringabel smiled, slow and lazy, at Edea’s peaceful expression as she lay in bed with him. Truth be told, she was usually more  _active_  in this sort of dream… but he would never say no to being able to observe her beauty at rest. And perhaps he could have a little fun waking her up. His grin kicking up a notch, he moved forward and puckered up, pressing his lips to hers.  
  
And instantly recoiled. A strand of hair untucked from her ear had come between their lips, and hers were as chapped as his, he’d even felt a little loose piece of skin where she must have been worrying her bottom lip with her teeth—this was not some idealized fantasy.  _He wasn’t dreaming_.  
  
Edea Lee was in his bed, not even three inches from him, and he laid very still, praying to the crystals that he hadn’t woken her with that impulsive kiss. After four seconds, she grumbled softly, but otherwise gave no reaction. It took another ten seconds before he remembered that he should breathe, even if that did require making some level of sound.  
  
It wasn’t that this was an undesirable arrangement. Of course not! It was just—it was just so sudden, and overwhelming, and  _how_? It hadn’t been that long ago she’d flatly rejected him for even a date. And he hadn’t…hadn’t had much the heart to try again since. Not with everything going on.  
  
He didn’t remember what had possessed him to try again, and push his luck so far, and that led his thoughts in a sinking spiral. Had he been drunk? He had been drinking more as of late, as certain memories returned. He tried not to be excessive about it, considering he was Grandship’s pilot. And considering the number of worried looks he already caught being sent his way. But it was called ‘liquid courage’ for a reason, and as he felt awfully dehydrated and could not remember how they’d gotten in bed together…  
  
His stomach lurched at a new unpleasant thought. Did  _Edea_  remember? She was under the drinking age still, he wouldn’t expect her to get drunk—but then, he wouldn’t have expected to find her here, either. If he’d taken advantage of her—  
  
No. He needed some space. Space to calm down, fetch a cup of water and get his thoughts in order, and hopefully remember what had led them to this point. He couldn’t recall anything past the adventuring they’d done in the afternoon. He rolled over to get off the bed and froze just shy of smacking into Agnès, who looked quite tuckered out with the covers pulled up to her chin.  
  
Ringabel whined. What had he done?  _What had he done?_  While Agnès was not as bold as Edea, a man would have to be blind to not notice her quiet beauty. That man would also have to be blind to not see the massive crush Tiz held for the vestal, which would make seducing her an excellent way to ruin at least two friendships in one go. Though perhaps this was proof of Edea and Agnès’ friendship being strong as ever, if they’d had no qualms about getting in bed with him at the same time… and THAT seemed like pure fantasy, even with a girl currently on either side of him. How had he managed that feat?  
  
He’d sneak out via the foot of the bed, regain his bearings. That was a sound strategy. Ringabel sat up, peeling away from his own sweat dried on the sheets, clutching the blanket to his chest for comfort, and paused. His eyebrows rose. Now this was just ridiculous. He’d only fantasized about Tiz the one time. Once did not count, considering his amnesia. It was only natural for one to explore options a bit. He did not have a crush on the shepherd boy. Yet…there Tiz was, at the foot of his bed, resting with his arms haphazardly stretched out in front of him. He wasn’t even half on the bed; his knees propped his body up from the floor. The bed wasn’t made to hold four, after all.  
  
Ringabel did not care how full of alcohol or other bad decisions the previous night had been. He should not have allowed Tiz to sleep in such an uncomfortable position. They could have pushed beds together… now there was a thought. A thought he should have had last night and was rather late now, but perhaps next time—he should not be thinking about ‘next time’s right now.  
  
…Perhaps it was significant that Tiz had his shirt on, considering he didn’t wear it to bed. Ringabel looked back at the girls and cautiously gave the cover another tug, just enough to pull it off their shoulders. They were not undressed, as he had assumed in his panic. They weren’t in their day-clothes as Tiz was, but both wore their nightgowns, modest enough.  
  
Relief flooded Ringabel, with a vague sense of disappointment creeping close behind. Why was he the only one undressed in this situation? All right, he did have drawers on, but still. The lack of his own clothing and the proximity of beautiful women had been very misleading. All that alarm, and yet a second look left it very unlikely that his overwhelming sex appeal had, in fact, overwhelmed them all. So why was everyone at his bed? He still couldn’t remember anything concrete about the evening. Though the more he thought about it… he did recall a nightmare. Or had he been awake? He didn’t remember clearly enough to tell. All he remembered was panic and a sense of despair, but over what?  
  
His hand touched the sheets, feeling the patches of dried sweat again. He’d been tossing and turning, no doubt, but not in the pursuit of pleasure, and suddenly he was anxious to be out of the bed. Lucky that Edea tended to sleep balled up like the most adorable kitten; there was a clear path between her feet and Tiz’s arm. It was his best chance for escape, even if his angel was also the one he was most apprehensive about waking. He made his way cautiously enough that when he took the last of his weight off the mattress, the only response was a twitch in Tiz’s hand. Ringabel took note of the reaction, or the lack of a stronger one, but his first priority was getting to the bathroom mirror to assess the damage. And yes, there had been damage. His hair (always the first thing he checked) was an absolute bird’s nest, but there was more to take in, even as his hands automatically set about fixing that mess.  
  
A bruise had blossomed across his forehead that hadn’t been there yesterday. The faded color and lack of pain said it had already been tended to with healing magic. The sheer size said it had been quite a wallop, and he suspected he had the answer to why he couldn’t remember with clarity anything that had occurred after the four of them had been ambushed by a number of imps. But if he had been knocked out then, he must have regained consciousness at some point in the night. Bloodshot eyes winced at their own appearance as well as the puffy bags beneath them, and now that he knew what to look for, his fingers quickly found the dried tear tracks on his face. He groaned aloud and turned on the tap, splashing water first onto his cheeks, then into his dry mouth, then back to his cheeks, rubbing furiously. He hadn’t dehydrated himself by over drinking, he’d sobbed himself dry. There was absolutely nothing attractive about it. He only felt mortified to think of how the others must have seen him, and set about repairing his appearance as best as he could. The bathroom door was locked and stayed so as he dressed and made up both pompadour and face in record time, making sure to cover up the bruise and puffy skin. He rushed, thinking the others would soon be awake and wanting to use the facilities as well. But when he’d squared his shoulders and cracked a smirk with which to face his impending embarrassment, he opened the door to find… they were still all sleeping on his bed.  
  
Or half on his bed. He really could not understand how Tiz had fallen asleep in that awkward position. The ‘why’ was sadly too easy to guess: worrywart that the shepherd was, Tiz must have been too concerned about…his state last night to stray far, not even to the distance of his own bed. Ringabel had seen him do similar when both Agnès and Edea had fallen ill with the flu.  
  
Before even thinking anything of it, Ringabel had leaned down and kissed the fluffy crown of Tiz’s head. The boy always showed his love for his friends in such simple gestures, never really asking much in return—except, at times, for Ringabel to behave himself in the future. He deserved love and affection in return.  
  
Of course, so did Agnès and Edea. He knew his nightmares well enough to guess that if he had indeed been plagued by one, he would have likely been calling for Edea. The previous night’s was still blurred in his mind, but just trying to recall it made a chill pass through his body, making him grateful she was in front of him so he could see how her body moved with breath as she slept so peacefully. Perhaps she… didn’t feel the same way he did. But she was kind and loving all the same, willing to stay by his side when he needed it. So this time when he kissed her it was chaste, on the side of her temple, and he only twitched a smidgen when she grumbled again.  
  
Agnès had undoubtedly taken care of mending his bruised pate, keeping it from becoming any more addled than it already was. The vestal hummed quietly, almost melodically when he kissed her forehead, and Ringabel paused. Maybe he was just imagining it, but he suddenly felt sure he had heard her humming last night as well, giving a soothing tune for his mind to hold onto in the midst of its own terror.  
  
“Ringabel…?”  
  
The man started; he should have realized he was pressing his luck with the spontaneous affection. Agnès’ brown eyes gazed up at him, blearily blinking back sleep. “I-My apologies,” he said hastily, not sure how to explain himself. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”  
  
She didn’t seem angry though. Perhaps she hadn’t actually registered the touch. “You’re well again, thank goodness,” she breathed. “We were worried.”  
  
Of course. He had realized by now that worry was the only possible explanation for why his three friends had all chosen to sleep with him for the night, but his stomach still pitched low at it being confirmed. It was comforting to know he had their protection should he need it, but he wanted to not need it, to ever be strong enough to be the protector himself. It was what he’d  _always_  wanted.  
  
He’d just learned, as Ringabel, to be a little more gracious in accepting his failings. He gave the vestal a brilliant smile. “Returned to myself through your loving care. Don’t worry about me, Agnès. Go back to sleep.”  
  
She moued at his line, but she must have still been tired; her eyes slid shut again easily after she’d murmured that she would check on him soon. After he’d pulled the comforter back higher on her and Edea, Ringabel started for the Drunken Pig and breakfast, scratching the back of his head and feeling a small sense of guilt. Just how long had he kept the others awake…?  
  
The proprietress herself was surprised to see him awake before Tiz and Agnès, the usual early risers of the group—not that it was particularly early any longer. Without him even having to ask she began to brew her most biting coffee, and he was alternating between that, a glass of water, and some scrambled eggs when he was joined at his table by at least one early bird. Agnès placed her small plate and tea mug on the side opposite him.  
  
“Airy has been looking for you,” he muttered.  
  
Agnès looked uncomfortable about that. “What… did you tell her?”  
  
He spread his hands. “How could I know where you were? I’d just woken up.” If he ever felt like getting his eardrums pierced, maybe he would go back and tell Airy the truth, that her jealously guarded vestal had been sleeping in the same bed as him. For the moment he was content to let the fairy turn herself in circles about Grandship.  
  
He was of mixed feelings about Agnès’ discomfort though. While it was genuinely good and gratifying to see they were starting to be on the same page about the fairy, Airy’s promises had been a source of hope to the vestal in some of her darkest hours, even if a false one. …Still, it was for the better that she be disillusioned.  
  
Agnès sighed as she rubbed the last bit of sleep from her eyes. “I will find her in a little while,” she decided, clearly in no rush to leave her seat and do it just yet. “How do you feel, Ringabel?”  
  
“Ah… apprehensive, truth be told,” he said, deciding to be frank. He wanted to know what had happened, even if it was embarrassing to hear. The sooner he knew that, the sooner he might figure out how to make Agnès not look at him with such ill-concealed worry. “I have no memory of the night before, which made waking up in between two ravishing women quite an experience.”  
  
The way the color climbed in her face, he thought he might have been a little too playful in phrasing his confusion, and feared her toast and jam might end up in his pompadour. Bread crumbs were irksome to get out. “What are you saying—We, we didn’t—Ringabel…!”  
  
“I realize nothing happened, Agnès,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “Not along those lines, anyway.” And she didn’t need to know that he was bound to be fantasizing that something had for a while. …Possibly with Tiz included, sexuality bedamned. No, she really didn’t need to know that. He cleared his throat. “But could I trouble you to tell me what did?”  
  
She sighed, looking at him uneasily. “I… suppose you don’t remember anything past the confusion spell.”  
  
“Not even that.”  
  
“That’s not a surprise. You were knocked out very soon after it hit you.”  
  
Oh,  _this_  was promising. They’d all had mishaps in battle at one point or another, but the thought of being a flailing mess in the midst of the fight, only to be knocked out before he could regain his usefulness, was still a cringe-worthy one. Even if he’d known to expect something along those lines, given the bruise on his forehead that his fingers now brushed against.  
  
“You covered it up,” Agnès observed, sounding displeased.  
  
“It’s not hurting—” He was interrupted by a second set of fingers joining his and pressing lightly on the bruise, sending a slight twinge through his head. But only a slight one.  
  
Edea looked down at him quite seriously as the color climbed into  _his_  face this time, her hand that wasn’t poking bruises balancing a platter stacked high with french toast with strawberries, eggs, and sausage, nearly all of it drowned in syrup. “It’s definitely not the ‘I’m-in-pain’ look,” she pronounced as she took her hand away and sat, and Agnès relaxed.  
  
“I just said it didn’t hurt,” Ringabel protested weakly. Perhaps he had tried to make light of his headaches one too many times, because the girls each gave him something of a look for that.  
  
He waited it out, expecting Agnès to resume her explanation so he could piece together the confusing fragments he did remember, but the young woman busied herself with her toast. It was Edea who picked up the conversation, after shoveling an entire piece of french toast in her mouth and swallowing with the bare minimum of chews. “We got through the fight and Agnès patched up your head and your other wounds, so we…we’d thought you would be fine, and we would let you rest here on Grandship until you came to naturally. Usually you snap out of the confusion daze after a hit like that.”  
  
“Blows aren’t the ideal solution, but they do work.” Except as soon as he’d said that, the girls looked at each other. Guiltily. “Did it not work? I was still…?”  
  
“There’s… a chance it wasn’t the confusion spell’s fault,” Agnès said softly, “but it does seem the most likely explanation. Possibly, because you lost consciousness so quickly, you didn’t have a chance to reorient yourself from the blow. You had a nightmare and woke up convinced it had been real.”  
  
“Ah…” Ringabel’s breath hitched as he felt all too sure what the nightmare had been, to drive him to tears. Especially as Edea continued from where Agnès had left off:  
  
“Tiz came and fetched us so you would calm down. And it worked! It took a little while for us to convince you everything was fine, but you settled down. Especially after we persuaded you to try a remedy just in case. Though, you didn’t want us to leave again.”  
  
Ringabel’s cheeks flooded with shame. He’d been…  _clingy_ , hadn’t he? “I’m. Sorry. Terribly sor—” He was interrupted by a chunk of strawberry squarely hitting the tip of his nose, and grimaced at Edea as he rubbed the now wet and syrupy spot on his face.  
  
“Don’t make a big deal of it,” she said. “You had a bad night. It happens. I just don’t want you getting the wrong idea about why we stayed.”  
  
…He was utterly transparent. Agnès cleared her throat, but politely said nothing on that subject. Perhaps they needed a new one—and come to think of it, there was one important matter, given the still-empty seat at their table.  
  
“You mentioned Tiz,” he said, “and I can’t imagine what he’d let keep him from breakfast this late. Please say he’s not still sleeping in that ludicrous position.” But judging from the expressions on the girls’ faces, he most likely was.  
  
“I didn’t want to wake him,” Agnès murmured, looking to Edea. “He seemed to have already been awake for some time before he got us last night.”  
  
“He was still in his day-clothes, he probably didn’t sleep even before all that!” Edea sighed. “I thought about waking him up so he’d move; he’s bound to be stiff already. But what are the odds he would get in bed now?”  
  
“Three-to-one.”  
  
She rolled her eyes at Ringabel. “Oh please. We’re talking about Tiz. Mr. ‘I’m fine, let’s go!’”  
  
“True, but I’m confident the three of us can persuade him to sleep in for a morning. Especially if we have something to keep him in bed. Oh, Proprietress…!”  
  
Tiz would certainly be hungry upon waking, like the rest of them had been. And if he had to come down to the Drunken Pig for breakfast, then he would almost surely consider himself awake for the day, never mind how tired he actually was. Fortunately the Proprietress was amenable to missing his company for a meal or two and prepared a tray they took to him as soon as they were done with their own breakfasts. Agnès held onto the food and drink, looking on as Edea and Ringabel each hooked an arm under an armpit and hoisted up the stirring boy.  
  
“I’m awake, I’m awake…” Tiz sounded anything but, and moved his feet along with all the grace of a drunk Barras Lehr as they brought him over to his bed. “What are we doing? Is s-suh…huh?” He finished stupidly as he was turned about and plopped onto his own bed. He tilted his head when Agnès stepped forward with the tray. Sleep-deprived beyond a doubt, considering how easily the younger man usually roused, and Ringabel shook his head before flopping his own body down on the bed, right beside Tiz, and stretching out his long legs, making it a little more difficult for him to escape from that side if he had the brainpower to even think of it. He wouldn’t dare try slipping past Edea, of course.  
  
“‘We’ are doing nothing. You’re staying in bed the rest of the morning,” Ringabel told Tiz cheerfully.  
  
“We did bring you breakfast,” Agnès added. “So you need not get up, even if you’re hungry. Are you?”  
  
“How late is it?” Tiz rubbed a hand over his face, looking as though he were trying to wake himself up.  
  
“Don’t worry about the time! Food, bed. Those are your sole two concerns for now,” Edea said. Her tone very effectively made it an order.  
  
As Ringabel had suspected, Tiz crumpled rather easily to all three of them, giving no opposition beyond a token protest. Once the tray laden with french toast, sausages, eggs and a cup of milk was laid before him, he leaned back into his pillows and ate, if sluggishly. He was quiet, but it didn’t seem all that awkward; Edea sat herself on the edge of the bed, and Agnès edged closer to it, even if she didn’t quite sit. After all, four would be cramped on one bed, as the last night had proven.  
  
Ringabel liked the idea of it being cramped. He felt he never really had been this close to other people before, whether because they hated him or he hated himself. This easy camaraderie… he’d had it for a while now, and it was only now, as his memories returned, that he could appreciate it for how long he’d lacked it. “Tiz, shift your leg. Agnès wants to sit.”  
  
“I—” The young woman was startled, but when Tiz promptly moved his leg out of the way, she lowered herself slowly onto the cleared spot. Her cautiousness meant the bed only creaked slightly at the increase of weight; no, it definitely was not meant for four people.  
  
Sometime in the future, Ringabel would have to find a good reason for them to shove two beds together and pile up in. It would be an interesting exercise. For now… for now he leaned back against the headboard himself, little minding that Tiz increasingly leaned against him, the younger man growing sleepy again as his hunger was satisfied and fatigue took back over. It might have been a rough night last evening, but right now, Ringabel would consider this a good morning.


End file.
